“I should like to attend,” Lady Callander said, softly. “He was not well known to me but still, I should like to pay my respects.”
Sebastian nodded. “But of course,” he said, rising to his feet. “I should take my leave of you now.”
She rose also, although there was something in her eyes that he could not look away from, a flicker of hope that he wanted desperately to answer.
“You will be attending this evening, I hope?”
Sebastian smiled, took Lady Callander’s hand in his and bowed over it, the urge to kiss the back of her hand growing ever stronger. Instead, he lifted his head and pressed her fingers. “I am,” he said, speaking of the evening soiree they were to attend, at Lord Lexington’s home. “The League meets the evening after that, and we will discuss all matters at length.” Seeing the question in her eyes, he chuckled. “And I am certain that your presence there will not be rejected, Lady Callander.”
A look of relief passed over her features as she smiled at him. “I thank you, Lord Millerton,” she said, with such a warmth to her voice that it seemed to fill his very soul. “Until this evening, then.”
He smiled back at her, finding his feet rather reluctant to step away from her. “I look forward to seeing you again, Lady Callander,” he said, before forcing himself to walk out of the doorway. It would not be long before he saw her again, he told himself, less than eager to return to his own carriage and instead wanting desperately to return to her side, to speak for a little longer, to be in her company for a little more time. Knowing that he was being overly sentimental and perhaps a little foolish, Sebastian shook his head to himself and forced himself to step out of the door and into the waiting carriage.
Where, much to his astonishment, sat a young lady whom he immediately recognized.
“Sarah,” he breathed, clutching his heart as he tried to speak clearly, still a little overcome with shock. “Whatever are you doing here?”
Sarah’s eyes were huge as she looked back at him. “Can you help me?” she whispered, her hand reaching out towards him, only for her to pull it back as though she were afraid of what he might do to her. “I — I am afraid.”
“Afraid?” he repeated, glancing back towards the door of Lady Callander’s house. “Afraid of what?”
She shook her head, wordlessly, tears forming in her eyes. “Please,” she whispered, only for the sound of a gunshot to catch his attention, spinning his head around. When he turned back to look at Sarah, he saw, to his horror, that she was pressed back against the seat of the carriage, one hand pressed hard to her chest as a flush of red began to spread out across the top of her gown.
“Sarah!” he exclaimed, reaching out for her and tugging her into his arms. Bellowing for the tiger to open the door, Sebastian took a deep breath and practically ran towards Lady Callander’s door, climbing the steps two at a time. Without any consideration, he kicked the door open, the butler stumbling backwards as he looked in shock at Sebastian.
“Send for a doctor at once!” Sebastian bellowed, as Lady Callander herself appeared in the hallway, looking at them both with wide eyed astonishment. “Lady Callander, this girl —”
“Up the stairs,” she interrupted rushing towards him, her skirts held up in both hands. “Lift her up at once.” She reeled off a few more instructions to the rest of her staff before hurrying up after him, her hands tight in her skirts and her face set. Sebastian’s heart was quickening with fright, the lady in his arms now closing her eyes, her breathing ragged.
“Just hold on,” he whispered to her, his brow furrowing hard as he looked down into her pale face. “Please do not succumb, Miss Sarah.”
Sebastian followed Lady Callander into another room and gently placed the now unconscious girl down onto the bed, looking down at her with a sense of hopelessness. “What should we do now?”
Lady Callander leaned over the lady and pressed one hand to her forehead. “We will wait for the doctor,” she said, softly. “For that is all we can do.” She looked at him, her face grave. “For the moment, Lord Millerton, that is all we can do.”
Chapter Seven
Bridgette held her breath as the doctor leaned over the unconscious lady in front of her, her fingers tight together and her heart pounding furiously.
“It appears as though the bullet has gone straight through,” the doctor murmured. “No doubt, Lord Millerton will be able to find it within his carriage, should he look hard enough.”
“I will inform him at once,” she murmured, without making any attempt to leave the room. Lord Millerton had been covered in the young lady’s blood and so had decided to return home quickly in order to change his shirt before returning. Her staff were already waiting for her every demand and he had made the butler promise that he would not let anyone come into the house save for him.
Bridgette appreciated his consideration, his urgent desire to keep her safe, but her main concern was now solely fixed on the lady in her guest bedroom.
“She may recover,” the doctor said, slowly, looking back at Bridgette from over the top of small pince-nez. “Only time will tell.”
Bridgette shook her head, unwilling to accept that remark. “What can I do to help her? “she asked, as the doctor shrugged.
“You should keep her as comfortable as possible,” he said, with a sigh. “I have sewn up the hole where the bullet entered.” Then he let out another small sigh and shook his head. “Although I am glad to say that the bullet has not decided to linger in the lady’s skin, I cannot promise that she will recover, my lady.”
Bridgette nodded but said nothing, looking at the lady Sarah in her bed, wondering at the darkness that seemed to now creep into the room. She did not know where Lord Millerton had come across the lady, why she had been in Lord Millerton’s company nor where she had come from, but she fully trusted Lord Millerton and thus had not had any time nor inclination to demand answers from him.
“The dressing must be changed in only a few hours,” the doctor continued, packing up his things. “Give her some broth or some such things if she awakens.”
“If she awakens?” she repeated, with a frown. “You mean to say —"
“It is in the Lord’s hands,” the doctor interrupted, snapping his bag shut with a small click. “Good afternoon, Lady Callander.”